


Raison D'Etre

by jeeps



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: Hogwarts Era, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2004-01-10
Updated: 2004-01-10
Packaged: 2017-10-03 06:38:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,315
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15237
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeeps/pseuds/jeeps





	Raison D'Etre

"It doesn't matter."

"Yes, yes it _does_."

"_Sirius_," and the boy in question raised an eyebrow as if he couldn't imagine why he'd earned what he himself had dubbed "the Professor Voice." This was a potent blend of condemnation, consternation and condescension, not that Sirius would bother defining it for him again after he'd been told in no uncertain terms where he could shove his alliteration.

Not that he was entirely putting on airs.

"_Remus_," he responded. "I'm not saying— I'm _just_ saying that you can't let that..." Sirius felt his mouth forming the next word, but no sound emerged from it, and an impotent rage lurched inside his belly. He glowered at Remus where he stood in front of the deep red curtains of his bed, a small grin curling the corner of his mouth.

"How's that hex working for you?" he asked, quietly. Remus's voice always dipped below its already soft lilt when he was amused, and Sirius could imagine a stopper at the top of his throat like at the top of a champagne bottle.

"See how _you_ like it when McGonagall punishes you with an anti-swearing charm. Won't be so funny then." Sirius crossed his arms and slumped back against a tall, wooden post at the end of his own bed, one foot on the floor and the other cocked on the mattress. Dark hair fell against his cheek at the petulant angle of his head, and he peeked up at Remus from below his eyelashes.

"Not all of us are as vitriolic as you, Sirius," which, okay, _sounded_ all reasonable except that it annoyed Sirius, so it couldn't be _all_ right. And hadn't they been talking about—

"Snape," Sirius ground out. He met Remus's eyes with a challenge. "I might not always be around to defend your honor, you know."

"Thank God for that," Remus answered. Sirius tensed for just a tiny moment, before he registered that the statement hadn't been made unkindly. It still threw him, though, and he couldn't think of anything to say. He seemed to have that problem quite often where Remus was concerned. Their eyes held, but Sirius could feel the challenge seeping out of him. Dammit.

Remus sighed, only a tiny hitch of his chest that no one else might have noticed because Remus wasn't _theirs_, and walked towards Sirius. "Can't you just let it go?" he murmured. "It _doesn't_ matter."

"But he—" Sirius cut himself off. He cast his eyes down at his lap and shook his head. Seven years, and expressing himself to Remus still felt like trying to navigate through corners. He knew there was a way around them, had to be, but he just didn't see them _coming_, was the thing. "You always say that."

Remus was standing in front of him, one of his knees almost touching Sirius's. Sirius tilted his head back, but it felt like giving in, somehow. At least they were on equal ground, because Remus looked uneasy. "Then don't ask, if you don't want to know."

Sirius knew that the right answer to that was 'but I want to know everything, everything about you.' He found he couldn't say it, because Remus had touched things Sirius had never touched, even in a Dark Wizarding family, and, okay, he was a bloody _Gryffindor_, but there were some brands of courage that he couldn't don yet for all his House's red and gold. So instead, he reached up to tuck long fingers in the waist of Remus's school trousers, pulled at them suggestively until Remus bent down and pressed his lips to Sirius's. His kiss was tentative; soft, dry tugs that could be teasing from anyone else, before Sirius opened his mouth and carded a tight clutch through Remus's hair with his free hand. Sirius tangled his tongue with the other boy's, despite the slipperiness managing to lead Remus into his mouth, and Sirius sighed with satisfaction. Here, he could communicate, give and take what he wanted without misunderstanding.

Thumbing the button on Remus's trousers, Sirius tightened his grip and pulled Remus closer to him, shifting his own body so that his bent leg dropped to the floor and Remus was trapped between his thighs. Sirius could feel the shift of muscles in Remus's legs as they tested Sirius's hold, and Sirius slipped his thumb below the button, the Quidditch-roughened skin rasping where he traced the fabric covering the zipper. The sound mingled with Remus's unsteady breathing when he broke away from the kiss, and Sirius couldn't stop staring at his face, eyes closed, mouth closed and lips wet as he tried to contain his reaction to the new angle of Sirius's hand, the fingers having slipped out of the waistband to press his palm against the hardening bulge underneath while Sirius stroked. He watched him even as he leaned in to lick at his lower lip. Remus's mouth opened on an inhale, and Sirius was far too much of an opportunist not to dip his tongue in teasingly, Remus meeting the caresses with sporadic little licks of his own. It was as if each one startled him out of the fugue Sirius hand was pulling him into, and Sirius cradled his jaw in the other, thumb pressed under chin so that he could see all of it.

Sirius temporarily stilled the motion of his hand, instead trailing his fingers along Remus's hipbone and down the curve to his groin, the fabric taut under his exploration. "Sirius," Remus murmured, and his voice was just as strained, bronzed eyes flashing at him through lowered lashes. Sirius breathed out and resisted the urge to scoot forward on the bed and press his own hips to Remus's, instead making quick work of the fastenings of the other boy's trousers and releasing hardness and heat into his hand. So _hot_, and Sirius set to stoking the fire further, drawing out Remus's low groans, or maybe that was Sirius's tongue, following the sound up Remus's throat and tasting prickly vibration. A cry caught there with a clever shift of angle and grip, and Sirius brushed his lips along Remus's jaw to admonish into his ear, "I can't say it, but you can."

"_Fuck_," Remus whispered, and came.

Sirius pulled back to watch it play over his features, powerful waves of orgasm breaking against the dam of eyelids shut tightly, teeth digging into the flesh of his lower lip, unforgiving fingers bruising where they clutched at Sirius's thighs. Sirius didn't know why, but it always pressed at his chest, indistinguishable from joy or sorrow. He released Remus and let him press his face into Sirius's neck, Sirius tilting his head to accommodate for the tug where his hair was caught between.

"Did you say something about defending my honor?" Remus mumbled after a few moments. Sirius gave a tiny smile that he knew Remus wouldn't see and stroked a hand down the ridges of his spine.

"I suppose I'm not very good at it."

"Sirius," Remus answered on a sigh, and Sirius swallowed as Remus pulled back to look him in the face. "Don't be so daft."

Angrily, "How am I being—"

"Look, I'm— I just, I have my... reasons. My reasons for _living_, Sirius. But they're only mine, and I don't expect them to matter to anyone else."

There was a long, thick silence in the space between them, which Sirius was afraid he was going to choke on when he opened his mouth to say, "I don't understand." Then, to avoid the inevitable disappointment that would fall like a shadow on the other boy's face at the words, he looked away and asked, "But, these reasons, I mean, am I...?"

"The daftest of them all," Remus murmured, and Sirius would have been indignant, he really would have, except he was too busy tasting the laughter that had spilled onto Remus's lips.


End file.
